


Aspect I: Blood

by HowFar_ToFall



Series: Aspects [1]
Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowFar_ToFall/pseuds/HowFar_ToFall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part one of my twelve-work Aspects series.<br/>Aspects is a series focusing on the trolls. Each installment has three chapters: one for each troll of the blood caste associated with the title aspect. It's hard to summarize because, while interrelated, the chapters don't share an exact format. Each chapter will, however, be a first-person portrayal of something significant that happened to the troll, or something that is happening, or maybe both!<br/>This summary is the same as that in every Aspects fic I write. Other parallels include: lack of warnings (trigger or otherwise), no specified gender combo, no specified relationships (although one or more may be included), three featured characters (although others may appear), no additional tags, and the rating.<br/>Caste Focus: Candy Red</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Seer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Welcome to Part I of Aspects! This chapter focuses on Kankri. I hope you like it!  
> And in case you think it's so cool that you want to keep up with my life so you know when I'm working or stuck on something (or if you just want to creep on me in general), I have a Tumblr! Please follow me so I know people care about my writing!  
> Tumblr: geminicosplaying-foxgirl

How long have I been like this? How long have I been such an enormous hypocrite? All of my rambling about triggers and an idealistic society...it's a smokescreen. It's a shield, a wall to hide behind. I tried to convince myself that I was truly making a difference in my friends' attitudes, and maybe I was. I even went so far as to believe I had changed myself too, but I didn't. It was an illusion. A mirage, conjured up as I tried to make my way across my barren life. How did I end up this way? Of course I know; it was the incident...

Before we entered the game, my at-the-time closest friend and I were laughing together. Where were we? I don't remember. I remember what was said though. I remember every word. I remember that we were laughing at my attempt to draw myself. I had failed quite miserably; I was barely more than a blob of messy color and the most awkward, horrible lines I have ever seen. But that doesn't matter. What matters is, I decided I would tell her something.

It was the biggest mistake I've ever made.

As we were catching our breath, it started.

"Kankri that is the absolute worst drawing I've ever seen!" Her words were almost impossible to understand due to her laughter. "I drew better as a wriggler!"

"Yes, you did always have a way with art," I told her. She flashed me a grin. 

"I know!"

"But your ego could use some work," I teased. (You must understand that at the time I had no problem with such quips. I rather enjoyed them, actually, before the incident was finished. After that, I lost all tolerance I had.)

"Aww, don't be like that." She pouted. I laughed. It was a wholehearted laugh, but one that trailed off. I had to tell her. Now. "Let's have a draw-off!" she said, but saw in my expression that my mind was distant. "What's wrong?"

"I was just wondering...I...maybe...would you...be interested in being my matesprit?" There it was. It was out there. I couldn't take it back.

"Oh...oh gosh, Kankri. I..." she said, trailing off. My heart was pounding. I felt dizzy and nauseous. What would she say? "I don't feel that way about you."

"You don't?" I managed to say, my mouth dry.

"Of course not, silly!" she said with a laugh. "I could never feel that way for someone as ridiculous as you."

She didn't mean it as a real insult. It was just a way to lighten the mood and clear the awkwardness. My heart broke regardless.

"Plus, I'm already flushing for someone else."

That was a terrible thing for her to say.

"I suppose he's better than me?"

"Yup!" She beamed, still trying to be lighthearted. "You still up for that draw-off?"

"Actually Latula...I can't." Her expression became puzzled.

"Kankri—"

"I have to go." I hastily made my exit. It hurt like hell. I couldn't compare to him. I knew who it was: Mituna Captor. I would never be his equal. Not in her eyes. That's how I became an advocate of social justice.

It's also when the habit began.

From that moment on, even until the present, I began to do something horribly wrong. I condemn the behavior rather vehemently in the presence of my friends, but there's a reason I wear what I do. You can probably venture a guess. Let me offer a hint: the long, candy red sleeves aren't a fashion statement. Since the incident, I've worn long sleeves and have never been seen without them. You see, the emotional scars never healed, and neither did the physical ones.

It's not something I'm proud of, nor is it a behavior I particularly enjoy. It just helps relieve the stress. Pain of the flesh eases pain of the heart, and I need that relief. I've had a few close calls: trolls almost discovering. I've learned to be careful.

In this dream bubble, I pretend to read in the quietest library. They all avoid it, knowing that I'm there and afraid to be caught in one of my infamous rants. One of the rants I use to keep them all away.

So now as I sit on a couch in the back corner, a book in my lap and a small knife in my hand, I roll up my sleeve and position the blade carefully, slowly drawing it across my skin...it's amazing how much pain I can feel even after dying. I wince, just like I always do, and bite my lip, pulling the knife away and closing my eyes.

A thud resounds in my ears and my eyes snap open and slide up slowly from the floor. I see a pair of red shoes...tall white socks...bare thighs...a short blue dress...

Aranea.

I hesitantly raise my gaze to meet her wide, horrified eyes.

"K-Kankri!" she stammers. I drop the knife and shift my arm to hide my cut but she gently takes my hand, turning my arm with a soft, guiding touch. Her eyes take in the wound, then rise to my face. I look away in shame, then feel the pain ease. I look at my wrist to find that it has healed. Of course: her powers as a Sylph of Light.

"Why? And don't you go talking in circles or blocking my question with the 'social justice' you claim to hold above everything else. I need to know." So I buckle and explain everything. Her eyes grow distant as I finish.

"Please...don't tell anyone. Especially Latula."  


"Of course not," she says softly. "I won't if you won't."

"What do you mean?" I ask in shock. She hesitates, then rolls up her sleeve.

Scars.

"Why don't you heal yourself?" She blushes.

"They're...reminders. Not unlike yours. I...I have the same problem. You love Latula, who loves Mituna. I...I love...someone." The end of her comment is hasty and vague.

"Who?" I ask. She remains silent. "Aranea, who? I told you mine. Tell me yours."

"The only flushed relationship I ever had," she hints.

"Meenah?" I ask in shock. She blushes deeply.

"Of course not! We're close, but not...like that."

"Then who is it?" She looks away.  


"Who do you think?" she asks quietly. "Who would be that for me, but not be serious about it at all?" My eyes widen.

"Porrim?" Aranea nods. "When?"

"In the game. We had a fling. I wanted more. She didn't. She left for, well, everyone else who wasn't already in love. She kept switching between all of them, but she never came back to me." She sighs and closes her eyes.

"Sit down," I tell her, patting the couch. She sinks down onto it and I slide an arm around her shoulders. I know we both want to cry, but neither of us sheds a single tear.

"Can you keep it a secret?" she asks.

"Yes. Can you?" She nods.

"But talk to me before you do something like that again. I'm here for you. I don't want you to do that anymore," she says. I smile.

"Only if you come to me too," I tell her. She rests her head on my shoulder.

"It's a deal." Her arm wraps around me. "And Kankri..."

"Yes?" I ask.

"...Thank you."

"Thank you too." I hesitate to say my next words, flashing back all those sweeps. These feelings, although only pale...she might not feel the same. After all, we only bonded just now. Will the experience with Latula all those sweeps ago repeat itself? "I—"

"Would you—?" 

Our words overlap and we both fall silent.

"Go ahead," she says after a rather long silence.

"Aranea, I don't want to be too forward, but...would you be interested in being my moirail?" I ask, my throat closing.

"Of course, Kankri. Since Meenah and I decided to end our pale relationship, I've been in need of companionship. I just never knew who to turn to...until now." I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Then we'll learn to deal with this—breaking the habit—together."

"Yes," she says softly. "We will."


	2. The Visionary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: geminicosplaying-foxgirl  
> Pros of checking out my Tumblr: keep up with all my writings; boost my self-esteem; request things  
> Requests: If you want me to write something specific for you, send a request to me on Tumblr! ^.^  
> Thanks for sticking with this story!

I’d like to say I’m in shock, but that would be a lie. This was inevitable. This fate…it was always going to be mine. There was no conceivable alternative. Of course I was going to be denounced as a heretic and publicly executed with no formalities whatsoever. It seems grim and hopeless. A bleak path with no alternative to the yawning chasm of hate and oppression.

Yet…

I still have hope.

My visions can’t be wrong, right? Dreams…visions…they can’t be fantasies. They’re real. They have to be! No, they are. They’re too vivid to be false. It’s like I have memories that aren't mine: memories of equality and cooperation. I see trolls working together, mingling as though there is no caste system at all. I close my eyes, and the blackness somehow shows me the light. I yearn to see it again, but since my imprisonment I have seen only darkness. I sigh and open my eyes, staring blankly ahead at the door: vertical metal bars set in a grim stone frame. That door is the only source of light. Guards pass every now and then, not even looking at me. How long has it been since I've eaten? I can’t tell…

I bow my head, gritting my teeth.

The door opens and I look up. A guard steps in and closes the door behind him. I watch him calmly as he walks up to me. His fist slams into my jaw. The chair I’m sitting in falls back and I crash to the ground on my side. He comes around it and kicks my stomach violently until I can taste my own mutant blood as I cough. It trickles from my parched lips down my cheek to the unforgiving stone floor. The guard grabs my hair and jerks my head up. I scramble to stand as he continues to pull. He laughs and shackles my hands behind my back, shoving me out of the cell. I stagger and find myself surrounded by four guards. The one behind me pushes me and I begin to walk, surrounded by the four bulky trolls. We walk at a brisk pace, away from the ugly stone heap that I have lived in for…how long was I there? I don’t know.

My feet are bleeding when we come to a stop. One of the guards kicks the back of my left knee. I collapse, breathing labored. I spit out more blood. I hear laughing. Trolls are laughing, jeering at me. Not I know for sure. This is my execution. But although I suffer, I suffer with the comforting knowledge that maybe, somehow, I've opened the door to a better future.

But as they chain me in new, burning hot shackles, suspending me above the ground, I feel something new. It’s an emotion I've never experienced before…it must be anger. The force is unbearable. I begin to struggle, and am whipped for it. I bare my teeth and feel the rage build up. Unspeakable wrath…I can stay silent no longer.

That must have entertained the highbloods, for they wait until I’m too exhausted to continue my screaming rant to finish the job. One highblood nods to the archer, who draws back the string.

“NO!”

My head jerks up in shock. The troll I love more than life itself…she is on her hands and knees, free of chains but shaking with sobs. They must know she won’t run. The one who escaped slavery to follow me…he is being led away. He looks back to meet my eyes, and for a brief moment I can see the sweeps we shared, but one of his guards strikes his head, making him look forward again. That means…

I see her now. The one who raised me, the one who acted as my lusus. She’s close to me, almost within arm’s length, but a highblood chasing her aims a kick at her back and she falls. He kneels and jerks her head up. Her eyes find my own and I offer her a small smile.

Then pain pierces me. The arrow…and she’s right here, watching. She’s hysterical now. She’s known me longer than anyone and she loves me in a way no troll should ever feel. They’re forcing her to watch, holding her so she has to stare at me. Her eyes are wild and torn by agony. I feel my last breath fading and manage to make it into a sound, directed at those cruel enough to do this to my three closest followers. These sadists shouldn't be allowed to exist. I want to scream but all I can do is offer one final word. If I have a descendant…I shudder to think that he may have to suffer my fate, but I can offer him some comfort in the form of a word. Something he can use to express the emotion I can’t now. I feel a pang of guilt for using this hypothetical troll in such a way, but my legacy must not be forgotten. If I can preserve this anger, maybe it won’t happen again. So I channel it all into a single syllable:

“Fuck.”


	3. The Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know that these events don't really apply anymore. Do I care? No. No I don't.  
> Tumblr: geminicosplaying-foxgirl

I've never been as afraid as I am right now. Our friends are gong insane. How many of us are even alive anymore? Am I the only one? I know Feferi is dead. Kanaya is dead. Tavros? Dead. They don't have to deal with this, but I do. I'm the leader. I'm to blame. I've fucked up every step of the way. A leader is supposed to keep everyone together. Now I don't even know who's left. Did Equius get to Gamzee? I haven't heard from him in a while. Nepeta or Terezi either, come to think of it. What if they're all dead? What if I'm going the only one left? What do I do? Wait for Jack to come and kill me? No, I can't think like that. I need to have hope. But dammit, Eridan's gone insane. He's the Hero of Hope and he wants to join Noir. He killed Kanaya and the only hope our species had for survival. Hope is dead. There's nothing left. Everything is so fucked up. I can barely even think. I don't know what happened when, or if it happened at all. Are these memories or fears inside my head?

_Honk._

I whip around, blacking out from the sudden movement. Is Gamzee here? Has he come for me? No, I'm still alone. Except...

_bro._

_SLOPPY M4K3OUTS._

_NOW._

_on the roof._

_H3 H3 H3 >:o]_

I feel my heart catch in my chest. Equius must have failed. The clown is still out there. Taunting me. I have to get to Terezi before it's too late. I take off running through the labyrinth, sprinting up to the roof. I'm not even out of breath when I stop. My legs aren't shaking and my muscles feel fine. I see Terezi in the costume I saw only once before. I made her feel shitty over it, that's for sure, and I make a mental note to figure out a way of taking all my insults back. She slowly turns to face me, dropping her cane. Vriska's dead body is there but I don't even care. All I care about is that Terezi's alive. I walk over and am shocked when she tackles me in a hug. It's not like her at all, but instead of pulling away and making some sort of harsh comment about emotions and shit, I just pull her closer. She buries her face in my neck. I don't feel tears, which is good. Her breathing is uneven though. Her fingers dig into my back.

"I thought you were dead," I say, my voice soft for once. She sniffs slightly. "What?"

"Shut up, dumbass. I'm trying to be strong here," she mumbles.

"Don't use Equius as a role model. That's an order," I tell her firmly. She giggles slightly in response.

"Softie," she teases. I don't argue, partly because it's true and partly because I want to make her feel better. She licks my neck and I jump slightly. "Candy red cough syrup," she says, then gives me a sharp nip. I pull back and she manages one of her signature grins. "You're adorable."

"Adorabloodthirsty," I correct her.

"Yes," she agrees. I suddenly become very aware of our three inch height difference as it begins to vanish. I enter panic mode, knowing she's going to kiss me. What do I do? Shit! What do I do? A mix of anticipation and fear floods my mind, and I'm disappointed yet relieved when she stands up straight again, blushing deep teal and looking over my head. I turn to see Sollux standing there with...is that Kanaya? She's alive? I try not to choke on my emotions as I search for something to say. What comes out of my mouth is incredibly stupid but at least it's something.

"Alright fuckwits, looks like we have some explaining to do."


End file.
